


(Can't Keep) My Hands To Myself

by PastelWonder



Category: Spy (2015)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 13:00:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6052507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelWonder/pseuds/PastelWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snapshot of Rick and Susan, post-canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Can't Keep) My Hands To Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Selena Gomez's Hands to Myself.
> 
> *This work is most emphatically *not* a part of the RTM series. Archive is being a pain*

They only have two hours; she has a flight to Styria to catch, and he’s going to Dubai, or Butabul - she can’t really remember which when his tongue is stroking into her mouth and his hand is up her skirt. The taxicab brakes suddenly, and the heel of his palm butts against her clit as his thick fingers slide along her slit. Her keen becomes a soft “Mmm-nmm” with his mouth sealed over hers, and he’s just worked his way under the hem of her panties and into the soaked curls of her sex when the cab driver calls, “Destine” and reaches back for the fare.

Ford throws a handful of cash at the man and catches her firmly by the wrist to drag her out of the cab and across the sidewalk to whatever fleabag hotel they’ve wound up at. The move is so fast she barely has time to twitch her skirt down her ass as she stumbles along behind him, flushed and breathing like they’re sprinting.

The man behind the front desk doesn’t speak English, and Ford doesn’t know Russian, but they both understand “One hundred dollars”, and Susan takes a moment to consider this is the most expensive cheap date she’s ever been on.

Then Ford’s shoving her into a rickety elevator and crowding her up against a wall, and she’s not really thinking anymore as her head tips back in his hand. His big, broad chest presses against her breast as her fingers knot and twist in his dress shirt, and she breathes against his mouth, “God, Rick…”

“My darlin',” he rumbles, grinding his hard-on into her so hard she thinks she can feel it inside her even with all the layers between them.

The way he kisses her, his tongue between her upper lip and teeth, sliding along the roof of her mouth, tangling with hers…

Neither of them hears the ding of the elevator; she catches the slide of their reflection out of the corner of her eye as the doors start to close again.

She flails her hand, “Mmm-hmm-”, and it’s enough to get his attention in time to mash the _Hold_ button and pull her through the doors and down the hall - the wrong way, the first time - and then they’re at the room and his hands are shaking too hard to insert the key card.

“Gimme that!” she practically snarls, trying to will the trembling in her own hand away as she swipes and waits for the little green light beside the handle. He opens the door the second they hear the click; there’s a tussle over who’s shoving whom at the bed, and who’s taking off what.

They land in a half-dressed heap on the scratchy blanket with him on top of her, because he has those long legs - _dammit_ \- and a higher center of gravity. She tries for a flip, and only manages to tangle herself up in him further as he pants into her ear, “Nice try, sweet’eart.”

Fingers working frantically at the pearl buttons, she’s got one, maybe two left, when she feels him wrench her panties down her thighs and over her high heels with an elastic _snap._ Her feet lift off the bed - he’s caught her under the backs of the knees - and she has exactly one second to take a deep breath and try to relax before _God oh God oh God_ he pushes into her.

Even soaking wet for him, even after they’ve made love a dozen times, he is still so fucking big. “Rick - baby - wait wait wait!”

Too late. He pulls back and slams home again, too far gone to hear her, “Uhh, Rick, wait!” or feel the heels of her palms press into his shoulders. It’s only at the sting of her nails biting into his skin and her pleading, “Ok ok, stop stop stop!” that his hips still and his head raises from the crook of her neck.

His face is creased like he’s in agony, and he grits his teeth as she strokes her hand over his face and whispers shakily, “You have to take it easy, baby - it hurts.”

His hands fist in the blanket, knuckles turning white, and he growls more than grunts as he draws his hips back slowly and pushes back in.

“That’s it,” she nods. “Just like that, baby.”

God, just like that.

He shakes his head, “Can’t”, and she tries not to clench as she braces for him to slam back in, when he works his arms under her and rolls them, so that she comes up on top, straddling his hips with her hands braced in the center of his chest.

“You drive,” he pants, his eyes so impossibly dark as they lock on hers.

With her full weight bearing down on him, it’s like the head of his cock is right under her ribcage.

“Breathe,” she reminds herself; she can’t help a little smirk when she hears his dramatic inhale and realizes he’s just as breathless as she is.

“You’re so big,” she moans as she starts to grind. Her head tips back at the that sweet, sweet stretch. She rises, pressing her knees into the mattress as she lifts her hips off his until the head of his cock drags against that tight bundle of nerves in the roof of her cunt. “Uhhhn-”

“So sexy,” he snarls, his strong grip on her ass almost too rough as he squeezes and kneads her.

Almost.

“Slap it,” she mewls, working herself into a rhythm.

He does, a hard smack that echoes loudly in their room and in her ears.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“Don’t you dare come,” she warns him, knowing he’s already so close. She can’t see him - her eyes are rolled back in her head at the glorious push-pull of his cock buried so deep inside her - and she can’t hear him - she can barely hear her own keens and whimpers over her heartbeat in her ears. But she feels the shake in muscles of his abs and thighs every time she bottoms out on him, and the tremble in the tips of his fingers that means if she’s gonna come like this, it better be _now._

“Help,” is all she can say, and then in one fluid movement - _God, he can be so good when he wants to be_ \- he works a hand under her big belly to find her swollen clit, and uses the other on her hip to keep her from overbalancing as he bends his knees, plants his feet, and bucks up into her.

_Hard._

She’s ready, _so_ so ready, this time. That dull ache deep in her cunt when he butts her cervix hard enough to make her whole body jerk feels like everything she’s ever wanted. Someone is shrieking, “Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Oh God yes!” and at the same second she realizes it’s her, he gives her clit a quick little succession of rubs that are perfectly in time with the raw thrusts of his cock.

There are no words after that, just wails and yelps as he hammers up into her like the only way out is up, and her climaxes come so hard and fast he can do anything he wants, as long as he never stops.

She babbles as much, too hot too care that he’ll never let her live that down, or that she’s practically begging him to come in her because it’s too good and too much and she loves him.

She loves him.

He comes with a shout, his ass lifted up off the bed and their hips molded together and holy shit he is so strong. His quads quake under her generous ass as his cock pumps, and she’s - for a few heartbeats - suspended in the air. In love.

And then he collapses, spent and gulping and gasping, a trembling mess.

She slumps forward, over her belly, as he pushes himself up onto one elbow and reaches for her. Cupping the back of her head, he drags her down to meet him in the middle, foreheads pressing together. He’s there, his breath in her mouth and his fingers on the back of her neck and his cock still inside her.

“I love you,” she tells him. She never wants to stop telling him.

“Love you, Susan,” he rasps back, his voice sounding gruff and hoarse and had he screamed? Did she miss that?

She lets out a shaky breath before, “We need to do this more often.”

He can’t really speak, so he nods emphatically, his forehead rubbing hers.

They stay that way for as long as they can, stretching to kiss and whisper and touch until the last of their stolen minutes are up. He lets her use his strong arms for leverage as she peels herself up off of him, and again when she slides off the bed to look for her clothes.

They dress in the hush of the hotel room, watching each other quietly. It always tugs at her, how big and firm his hands look doing up all the buttons on his dress shirts. And even though he can manage it better than she can, he lets her tie his tie for him, lets her use it to tug him down for a kiss.

They kiss all the way down the elevator, and in the ten seconds between when he hails a cab for them and when it pulls up to the curb. And in the backseat, they kiss and kiss and kiss. His hands all over her body, firm and reassuring.

He walks her to her gate, his arm around her waist and his mouth against her ear, rushing to tell her all the things they can’t say over their earpieces in the field.

“I love you,” she whispers against his mouth as they finally - finally - kiss goodbye. Her throat is pinched, eyes stinging behind their lids. When she opens them, the rims of her lashes are wet.

“I love you, Susan.” He cups her face. “I’ll see you soon, my darlin’. I promise.”

She nods, forcing a small smile. “Be careful,” she calls over her shoulder as she boards.

His salute is the last thing she sees before she’s on the ramp, last in line with the other stragglers for final boarding call.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this lickety split. Let me know if you liked it!
> 
> Your comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
